


tell me you love me and make me believe it

by AlexSeanchai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Faked Suicide, Female Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Guardian Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Identity Reveal, Plans For The Future, Podfic Welcome, Romantic Gestures, Sexual Humor, Trans Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22771042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: "You wanted to talk, kitty?" Ladybug asks, coming over with intent to sit next to Chatonne Noire, maybe offer a hug.Chatonne half shrugs. "I did. I should." She's gazing downriver; a low vessel is sailing under the Pont des Arts. She sounds pretty down. "Jumping off the lock bridge would be a nice dramatic death, don't you think?"Ladybug doesn't actually realize she's planning to haul her partner away from all thatdownand hug her fit to suffocate until Chatonne's several paces from the roof's edge, prying Ladybug's arms off her and hauling in a deep breath."I think that came out wrong," Chatonne says, more rueful amusement than anything. "Sorry for scaring you.""Don't leave me," Ladybug bites out. She grabs her partner by the shoulders andshakesher. "Don't leave me alone!""That is the opposite of the plan, Bug."
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 63
Kudos: 749





	tell me you love me and make me believe it

Ladybug finds Chatonne Noire sitting on the edge of a flat roof overlooking the Seine: her yo-yo shows exactly where to find her partner, but dark as it is, Ladybug misses her on first glance. One of Chatonne's legs is dangling over the side of the building, the other drawn up to her chest; her shoulders are hunched and her back tense; her tail is limp and her ears drooped, in the one moment between when Ladybug notices her partner and Chatonne realizes she's no longer alone. Chatonne's ears perk up, but she doesn't otherwise move.

"You wanted to talk, kitty?" Ladybug asks, coming over with intent to sit next to Chatonne, maybe offer a hug.

Chatonne half shrugs. "I did. I should." She's gazing downriver; a low vessel is sailing under the Pont des Arts. She sounds pretty down. "Jumping off the lock bridge would be a nice dramatic death, don't you think?"

Ladybug doesn't actually realize she's planning to haul her partner away from all that _down_ and hug her fit to suffocate until Chatonne's several paces from the roof's edge, prying Ladybug's arms off her and hauling in a deep breath.

"I think that came out wrong," Chatonne says, more rueful amusement than anything. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Don't leave me," Ladybug bites out. She grabs her partner by the shoulders and _shakes_ her. "Don't leave me alone!"

"That is the opposite of the plan, Bug," Chatonne says, sliding her arms around Ladybug's waist and drawing her close.

Ladybug drops her head to where Chatonne's neck and shoulder meet and tries to get her breathing under control, her heart rate back down. It helps that her best friend is _right here_ , the same soft, strong hands and steady, reliable heart that Chatonne has always been. But the point of right now is supposed to be _Ladybug_ helping _Chatonne_ with something personally important, not the other way around.

"What did you want to talk about?" Ladybug asks Chatonne's pulse point.

"Ah…that plan, actually." Chatonne sounds _sheepish_ , which is rare enough to be remarkable. "Let's sit?"

Ladybug ends up sitting in Chatonne's lap more than anything else, while Chatonne leans against the outer wall of the roof access. Chatonne is silent for a while, punctuated by inhales and shifts of posture that seem to signal she's beginning to speak. Finally she sighs. "This is ridiculous," she says heavily. "I'm being ridiculous. If I can't even start telling you about it, I definitely can't get your help with it and probably shouldn't go through with it."

"…What 'it' is this?" asks Ladybug.

Chatonne buries her nose in Ladybug's hair and breathes.

"You don't have to tell me anything," Ladybug continues softly. "But you can tell me anything. —Just about," she corrects herself, though by now they're both well aware of where the lines are. "And I want to know."

"Okay," says Chatonne into Ladybug's hair, and lifts her head away and repeats, "Okay. So."

And sighs.

"I hate him," she admits, in a quiet voice that reminds Ladybug of nothing more than glass—hard, strong, but fragile, and all too easy to see through. "My father, I mean. I love him too but I _hate him_."

"Oh, kitten," says Ladybug. "I'm so sorry."

"He wants to pull me out of school," Chatonne continues. "I fought so hard to _go_ , and—well, it's Lycée Anaïs Nin," she observes, and Ladybug feels her heart stop because _Chatonne Noire attends her school_. "And _I_ know that's the safest place all round for me to be, given the local akuma rate, but _he_ thinks it's the most dangerous place I could be, for, well, exactly that reason."

Ladybug draws in a shaking breath and bites down on the question _Hang out much with our problem children?_ Because the pattern in which akumatized people are so often close with or just got hurt by or _are_ the people who were in Mme. Caline Bustier's troisième homeroom back at Collège Françoise Dupont—

Well, suffice to say the betting pools on when and why Marinette and Adrien will finally succumb to the little purple butterflies have been going on for a long damn time.

"We're at an impasse on that front," Chatonne continues without pause, "but he's pushing it again and if he decides he's going to overrule me altogether then…I don't know. I need a plan that isn't 'move out the moment I'm done with lycée', anyway."

"Sounds reasonable," Ladybug agrees. This does not explain Chatonne's opening remark, though.

"And then yesterday…" Chatonne shrugs. "My hair's got a bit long, I guess. By which I mean it was scheduled for a trim three weeks ago and I misplaced myself, and he must have noticed." She reaches over Ladybug to drape her own long braid over Ladybug's back. "He said something about my looking a little too feminine, and…I don't know, something snapped?"

Ladybug rearranges herself to look her partner in the eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met," she tells her.

Chatonne smiles halfheartedly. "Validation noted and appreciated." She tugs Ladybug back down. "So the thought I've been playing with all today is, and please hold the panic until I'm done: suppose civilian boy me goes to, oh, say the Pont des Arts. With an audience, of course—got to be properly dramatic about it all—though it might be tricky finding a moment where the audience is paying attention, won't interfere, and won't be too traumatized," Chatonne realizes aloud. "Ugh. Think there's security cameras I could do this in line of sight of? Anyway. Maybe I've got a note or a sentimental item that I drop on the bridge, maybe I just leave a goodbye-cruel-world note in my bedroom, whatever. And I jump."

Ladybug shudders.

"I said hold the panic, didn't I?" Chatonne's hand is warm on Ladybug's back. "Once I'm deep enough to be out of sight, I transform, I fish myself out of the water somewhere well upriver, I go have a shower and fix my clothes and makeup, and civilian _girl_ me vanishes into the crowd. Re-enrolls at Lycée Anaïs Nin, even, if I can swing that. Which I want to," she adds. "I'd really miss our problem children. And I put substantial money on my being akumatized never and I'm really curious who'd collect if—"

Ladybug stares at Chatonne Noire: now that she _knows_ she cannot figure out how she _missed this_. That's Adrien's nose. His cheekbones— _her_ cheekbones, she corrects herself. The exact shape of her lips, painted in the same green that accents Chatonne's staff, the same green that—'Adrien' is probably not her name, is it—keeps calling 'Disney villain green'. The eyes are Plagg's, of course, but she has imagined her friend looking at Marinette the way Chatonne Noire looks at Ladybug often enough that she has more than once talked herself out of _believing_ her friend's expression is like Chatonne's. The hair is far longer but the same honey gold.

Chatonne's fallen silent, staring back.

"Sorry," Ladybug says. "Carry on."

"If you say so," Chatonne says suspiciously, "though later tonight I'd like to know what I said to provoke the lightning that just struck you."

Ladybug shakes her head. She is the Guardian, so she gets to make the rules, and it is _just possible_ that the secret-identity rule has at least partially outlived its usefulness. Tikki didn't get more adamant than Marinette herself was about it until after the Reflekdoll attack, anyway; Ladybug is now wondering if Master Fù saw Coccinelle and Black Lady on the news and panicked. "I don't know how many akumatization betting pools that lycée has, but I am way too familiar with the two our problem children are running. And I know you're not _me_ , so."

Chatonne startles, looking rather lightning-struck herself. "Marinette?"

She nods.

Her partner's expression brightens like dawn breaking.

"Okay, so, you're going to laugh," Ladybug says rapidly, "but I think your plan is too complicated."

"—Too complicated," Chatonne repeats. " _You're_ saying this."

"It is!"

Chatonne starts snickering, hiding her face in Ladybug's hair again. " _My_ plan is too complex. Never thought I'd see the day."

Ladybug swats her on the knee. "So whatever point you want to make to that man," she says, "write it in your goodbye-cruel-world note, and schedule it for, oh, Saturday. Then on Friday if we haven't done the next part yet, reschedule it for next Saturday, and keep rescheduling it till we _do_ do the next part."

" _My_ plan is too complex," repeats Chatonne, differently amused.

"Well, part two depends on factors outside our control." Akumas that target a particular lycéen·ne are not common, but not rare. But those probably won't do. "We need someone—hopefully not Alya," she adds, wincing, "but filming this would be better than relying on what witnesses say later—we need someone to know the prettiest person in my class is there when a murder akuma hits. Preferably one with a big enough blast radius that no one would be surprised should they realize they undercounted the casualties." Ladybug takes a breath to steady herself, listening to Chatonne Noire's heartbeat. "And then I guess I get to have a major panic attack pretty soon after Miraculous Cure, because that person won't come back."

"Problem," observes Chatonne. "Prettiest person in your class is you."

Ladybug elbows her. "You know who I mean."

Chatonne exhales. "Yeah, guess so."

A long pause. She tangles her claws in Ladybug's pigtail.

"You'd…you'd do that," she says. "For me."

"Get my partner out of an awful enough home situation I've already given thought to strangling the offending parent, give the offending parent an unfortunately metaphorical kick in the family jewels on the way, and make Hawkmoth face one—" (Ladybug holds up one finger) "— _one_ consequence? What's not to like?"

"Public opinion will absolutely vilify you," Chatonne says.

"—Why, because one of the deaths Hawkmoth has caused will officially be played for keeps?"

Ladybug thinks about that.

"Ugh, you're right. Enough people have started thinking like akumatization is a natural disaster sort of like sexual assault that we can't count on everyone understanding Hawkmoth's to blame. Though," Ladybug continues, determinedly optimistic, "if I honestly _am_ upset over how much people suck, then it will be a lot easier to fake being upset over my friend dying."

"Who are we telling the truth?" Chatonne wonders. "Or anything like the truth."

"Hadn't got that far yet. Fewer people than will expect civilian me to be distraught for months over the official story, anyway."

Is this a good time to explain what's behind that? Does Chatonne even _like_ girls? This is not a conversation they've ever had! Chatonne has mentioned pining for an uninterested boy, and then an uninterested person of unspecified gender, but that's all. (Ladybug bets if she checks her diaries she'll find that change happened right about when Marc lectured everyone they know about nonbinary Francophones versus the Académie Française.) Chatonne also play-flirts with literally everyone in their age bracket who seems interested in letting her; it works out to about half, Ladybug thinks, since those among their problem children who ruled themselves out are Kim, Max, Ivan, Alix, Sabrina, and Lila. Marinette has never known what to make of Chatonne Noire flirting with her, but it would definitely be worse if Chatonne stopped.

Ladybug isn't done planning, though. "I also hadn't got as far as how to make sure nobody asks questions about who this girl is or where she came from if we don't already have answers they'll believe."

Chatonne shrugs. "We'll make me eighteen on the paperwork. That part's even true. And Nathalie does not know about all my bank accounts. So with some minor shenanigans, I can buy my own groceries, at least for a while, without even writing me into my own will."

"—Uh." That's uncomfortably morbid. However practical.

"I wrote that up months ago, Bug," Chatonne reassures her. "No one's going to think much of it. Probably wonder how long I've been re-queueing that goodbye-cruel-world note, but…let's say if this job or anything else actually _did_ kill me, my father already has lots of his own money. No point letting him keep mine."

Ladybug listens to Chatonne's heartbeat.

"You'll still want income," Ladybug says. "Long-term, I don't think this is a good solution—" If they can deal with Hawkmoth and Mayura for good _before_ their mid-twenties, excellent. But they both remember Timetagger, and they both remember Bunnyx, age mid-twenties. "—but you know we're both going to have the worst time with steady employment until we win this, and university might not go so great either." Chatonne squeezes her. Ladybug smiles. "How do you feel about working at a bakery?"

"—Your parents are hiring?"

Chatonne sounds astonished. Chatonne maybe even sounds _delighted_. "Not at the moment," Ladybug has to say. "But if I bring home a friend who needs a family and a place to stay—which we should probably do _before_ killing off the other guy," she realizes, "I think you want a wig—and if the friend expresses the least interest in baking or accounting—"

"I'm already familiar with double-entry bookkeeping." Chatonne waves one hand vaguely. "Something about a jump start on business administration. Not my favorite, not the worst, definitely something I'd be happy to do for your store. —your parents' store."

Ladybug tilts her head up.

"Don't tell me you've never thought about starting yourself a boutique, princess." Ladybug isn't sure what to make of Chatonne's tone. "But anyway. Baking is way more useful than looking pretty for the cameras. And molecular gastronomy? Now that sounds fun."

Huh. "Thought you wanted to be a physicist?"

"Nino keeps telling me to tell you particle physicists do it with charm." Chatonne's embrace loosens. "That's not the same thing."

Wait. Wait wait wait. Her friend— _this_ friend—Nino's been telling her civilian partner to _flirt_ with her?

"Bakers do it by the dozen," Ladybug says. "And they preheat first."

Oh good, the words all came out in the right order.

"I thought you liked guys," Chatonne says.

Not an unfair assumption. Ladybug has mentioned such a person before. "Yeah, so did I."

Chatonne takes her by the shoulders and rearranges her so she can watch Ladybug's face. "Run that by me again?"

As hopeful as her partner looks— "You asked about lightning earlier," Ladybug says, not—quite—confident enough to meet Chatonne's eyes. "Once someone gave me an umbrella, so I wouldn't get soaked going home. Someone I was kind of nasty to, that morning when we met. Someone I misjudged." Is that specific enough for Chatonne to place this? "I'm a sucker for a kind heart and a friendly laugh, I guess. Anyway, it turns out I've been misgendering her, so I probably need to rethink whether I like guys."

"You mean…" Chatonne's eyes are shining. "You mean me."

Ladybug leans up to her ear and whispers, "Oh my god, they were _roommates_."

Chatonne blinks several times, then bursts out laughing.

—Did Ladybug just hear Chatonne say _love you_?

Nope nope nope. Not asking about that. _Not_. Marinette is only seventeen, her partner is eighteen but only just, and even as sturdy a partnership as Marinette's parents have always had, they have both mentioned several times over the years that getting married when Tom was nineteen and Sabine twenty-one was too rushed a decision and Marinette's mother's parents weren't wrong to doubt them.

(Marrying her partner the minute Marinette turns eighteen is probably a good idea for the same reason it's a good thing her partner has a will. That doesn't mean it's reasoning they will be able to _tell_ anyone. Or reasoning that is necessarily, or bilaterally, anything to do with love.)

"Come on," Ladybug says, getting up, catching Chatonne's hand to draw her up with her. There will be plenty of time to poke that later. "Let's go home. Pastries to eat, video games to play, straight faces to practice, a suicide to plan—"

"Can I kiss you?"

Ladybug gawks up at her unfairly tall, distinctly pink partner.

"—Sorry," Chatonne says, seizing her tail in one hand, "sorry, I—you said 'home', I just—"

"Well I'm not making you go sleep under the roof of someone you want that badly to get away from." And Ladybug is somewhat indignant that her partner would think otherwise! —Or. Well. "Not tonight, at least. You'll probably have to most nights for a while."

Chatonne nods, and repeats, softer, as though saying this deliberately instead of on impulse, "Can I kiss you?"

It takes a deliberate act of will to _not_ answer by action.

"Not in the open," Ladybug says. Since photos got on the internet of Ladybug and Chatonne Noire kissing during the Dark Cupid and Oblivio attacks, Hawkmoth probably thinks they've been dating for years, but it probably isn't bright to give him more reasons to believe that.

And that suicide note needs _not_ to sound out of keeping with its author's emotions during the probably a couple of months between now and then. Which means its author doesn't get to kiss Marinette openly either.

Speaking of. "Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

Chatonne rubs the back of her neck, her other hand toying with her tail. "I haven't quite decided? I've narrowed it to Mélanie, Valérie, or Catherine. And I have no idea about surname. Uh. Unless I'm taking yours."

Nope not touching that yet. "How much do you want the multilingual pun up front?"

Ladybug's partner shrugs. "I haven't asked anyone to call me any of these, I think is the problem. And I don't think I'll know which fits best until I do."

Ah. "I guess I'll rotate through them for a bit?" Ladybug proposes. Chatonne grins, letting her tail loose to flick happily around Ladybug's waist; Ladybug smiles back. "So, Valérie. My bed's big enough for both of us—you know, if you want to cuddle or anything, otherwise I'll be fine on the chaise—and artists do it with _style_."

Chatonne looks at her for a moment, starry-eyed. Then pivots, grabbing her staff, and vaults off: "Race you!" she calls from two roofs away.

Ladybug shakes her head, laughing, and follows.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


End file.
